“Same imitation.”
Creed looked.
His face barely changed.
Too barely.
Eleanor noticed.
“You knew.”
He looked at her.
“Careful.”
“You knew these were forged.”
“I knew no such thing.”
Caleb spoke.
“Then you won't object to an examiner.”
Creed looked toward him.
“I did not come to negotiate with a trapper.”
Caleb’s expression remained calm.
“Good.”
“You're negotiating with her.”
Eleanor looked at Caleb.
That sentence mattered.
Creed turned back.
“The note is due.”
Eleanor said:
“No.”
He smiled.
“Mrs. Mercer—”
“No.”
“You misunderstand your position.”
Eleanor felt something old rise.
The version of herself who had once gone quiet when men used that tone.
She refused it.
“My position is that you traveled three thousand miles in winter carrying a second note you somehow forgot to mention when Caleb settled the first.”
Creed’s smile weakened.
“You want money before someone examines the signatures.”
Silence.
Eleanor continued.
“And I think you came because you learned Caleb was investigating.”
Creed’s eyes flicked toward him.
There.
Enough.
Caleb saw it too.
Eleanor said:
“You are afraid.”
Creed laughed.
“Of you?”
“No.”
“Of paper.”
The room became very quiet.
Caleb’s mouth almost smiled.
Creed gathered the note.
“You will regret making this difficult.”
Eleanor stepped forward.
“No.”
“I regretted being frightened.”
“I am finished with that.”
Creed looked toward Caleb.
Perhaps expecting intimidation.
Caleb only opened the door.
“Road's still passable until dark.”
Creed stared.
“You're throwing me into a storm?”
Caleb looked outside.
“Storm starts tomorrow.”
“Plenty of time.”
Creed put on his gloves.
Then looked at Eleanor.
“This isn't finished.”
She answered:
“No.”
“It isn't.”
He left.
Caleb closed the door.
For several seconds they stood silently.
Then Eleanor started laughing.
Caleb stared.
“What?”
“I was terrified.”
“You didn't look it.”
“I thought I might faint.”
“You threatened him with handwriting.”
She laughed harder.
Caleb finally smiled.
Then the laughter faded.
They looked at each other.
The unresolved hurt remained.
Caleb spoke first.
“You did not need me.”
Eleanor’s chest tightened.
“What?”
“With Creed.”
“You did not need me to answer for you.”
“No.”
He nodded.
“That’s what I should have understood before.”
She looked away.
Caleb continued.
“I thought helping meant solving things before they reached you.”
“That was what my father taught me.”
“Fix the roof before rain.”
“Set traps before hunger.”
“Stack wood before snow.”
“I treated you like another problem to protect from weather.”
Eleanor looked at him.
“I know that sounds terrible.”
“A little.”
He nodded.
“I’m learning.”
Silence.